I know it’s a dumb thing to admit out loud (or in print), but it never really occurred to me that my kids would actually grow up. When I became a mom, I was pretty much a child myself. But I was a mom. Period. For more than 20 years — over half of my life, all decisions, actions, inactions and investments of both time and money have been made based on the greatest good of these two little lives that have been entrusted to me. While I’ve raised them almost solely on my own all these years, the focus has mostly been day-to-day operations. And it’s been a busy, bustling life.

But I’d never stopped to considered that my role would change and evolve over time.

I’m still a mom, obviously, but suddenly things seem different. I can see on the horizon that the “work” and the daily hubbub is coming to a close. My job as mom lately has been simply sitting back, enjoying my kids’ company and celebrating the adults they’ve become.

As I look back – which I’ve been doing quite a bit lately – there are a number of conclusions to be reached:

1.) While it’s been a spectacularly imperfect journey of trial and error, I can say with total confidence that I’ve done the best I can. I just wish I would’ve had a louder inner voice that would’ve told me more often, “Hey, Ms. Oblivious Busy Pants. Pay attention to this; it’s big. And it’s going to be brief.”

2.) While my best has been sufficient, more than anything, I just got really lucky with the offspring I was given to work with. It would’ve been tough to screw up with these guys.

3.) Doggone, I have nice kids. They’re simply good people. And funny. Good lord, they’re funny. If they weren’t my kids, I would want them to be my friends.